


Excuse Me Waiter There's a Bullet in My Salad

by Xanthos_Samurai



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics)
Genre: Banter, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Clark Kent is a good adopted parent, Clark Kent is bulletproof, Dating, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is obnoxious on purpose, Family Dinners, Jason Todd is Robin, Jason Todd is So Done, M/M, Silly, Young Jason Todd, no beta we die like jason todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanthos_Samurai/pseuds/Xanthos_Samurai
Summary: Clark, Bruce and young Jason are out on a family outing when Clark is targeted by a sniper. The fact that Clark is bulletproof makes this more annoying than anything else. The biggest problem is keeping any of the civilians from noticing.A very silly, lighthearted fic based on an old silver age Superman comic.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 23
Kudos: 289





	Excuse Me Waiter There's a Bullet in My Salad

**Author's Note:**

> So my buddy Orphean sent me this link: https://unpretty.space/post/638788919448748032/unpretty-there-was-a-golden-age-superman-comic and I posited "Okay but what if this happened while he was out with Bruce and Dick and/or Jason?" and started riffing on the concept and she said I should actually write it.
> 
> So here we are! It's VERY silly but sometimes you just gotta write something extremely silly.

The first bullet that hit Clark Kent made a sound like someone with a very weak arm hitting a side of beef, and then a small, sharp _ping_ as bounced into his plate of caprese salad.

Clark and Jason blinked down at the bullet. Bruce continued sipping his iced tea.

“Did… Did Clark just get shot?” Asked Jason. At fourteen and only barely initiated as Robin, Jason was the only person at the table who hadn’t yet witnessed an assassination attempt in the flesh. He was staring at Clark with huge eyes, his Dr. Pepper (a hard-won treat) forgotten in his hands.

The three of them had spent the day together in one of Bruce’s mandated “family outings” and the day had been an unmitigated disaster. Bruce and Clark had been snapping at each other all day for absolutely no reason and Jason was so sick of the both of them that he’d threatened to go back to being an orphan in Crime Alley. Dick had been invited but begged off, claiming that he needed to be on patrol early that evening. Jason couldn’t help but wonder if he’d already known how these sorts of outings tended to go.

Now the three of them were capping the day off by eating dinner at an outdoor café in a busy, touristy part of Gotham. 

“Shot implies that he was penetrated.” Bruce had put down his iced tea and was studying the menu through his designer sunglasses. “Since he obviously wasn’t, I think the correct term would be that Clark was shot _at_.”

Jason started to snigger at the word _penetrated_ and then stopped, looking back at Clark wide-eyed. What was the protocol for laughing at someone surviving being shot at?

Clark was frowning down at his red polo shirt with more annoyance than anything else. There was a little hole where the bullet had made impact, more like a cigarette burn than anything else. Well, that was another shirt ruined. 

“Penetrated? Are you _twelve_? This isn’t funny, you know. Even if it doesn’t hurt me, it still doesn’t feel good and now I can't wear this shirt in public anymore.” Clark paused and looked at Jason, who was looking cowed after Clark had said it wasn’t funny. “It’s okay, Jason, I'm not mad at you.”

“Maybe if you wore some of the nice shirts I wanted to buy you…”

“That was not an invitation to start another sartorial debate with me, Bruce. Also, are you implying that designer shirts stand up better under _gunfire_?”

“Okay, fine. Why is someone shooting at you this time, Clark?” Bruce pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and fixed his boyfriend with a pointed look.

Another bullet thudded against Clark’s chest and _pinged_ into the caprese salad.

“...Seriously, are one of you gonna do something about that?” Jason pointed to the two bullets now sitting on Clark’s plate. 

With a sigh, Clark scooped up one with a bite of salad and chewed.

“It’s the best way to get rid of evidence,” he explained to a horrified Jason.

“You… Literally eat bullets for dinner… That is the most badass shit I have ever seen…” Jason sounded completely awestruck.

Bruce, who always got a little jealous of his sidekicks admiring other heroes, raised his eyebrows to the rooftops above them.

“So, babe, do you want me to go take care of this or are you just going to hope that none of these bullets are going to ricochet?” Bruce asked mildly.

Jason turned to Bruce, his wide eyes bright with longing.

“Bruce,” he began.

“No, Jason.”

“ _Bruce_.”

“ _No_ , Jason.”

“But-”

“No, you will not ever be bulletproof and also no, you are not permitted to go counter-snipe the guy. We are having a _family outing_.”

Jason slouched back in his chair. “You’d let _Dick_ do it.”

“Dick would have eaten his vegetables.”

“Dick never ate a vegetable in his life. He used to sneak them to the dog under the table. Alfred told me.” Jason spoke in a withering tone. 

“You know, this only happens when I’m in Gotham. Nobody ever tries to shoot me in Metropolis.” Clark stood up to discreetly leave the table so he could go take care of the sniper.

“I’m sorry we don’t all live in a gauche art deco utopia, Clark.”

“Ohmigod it’s _Nightwing_!” A woman at a nearby table screamed, pointing to a rooftop.

Bruce, Clark and Jason all looked. Sure enough, a svelte blue and black form was backflipping off a building with a criminal in one hand and a sniper rifle in the other. Everyone was standing now, watching the show.

“Please don’t be alarmed, folks!” He waved at the crowd as he placed the would-be sniper (who was already ziptied and immobile) on the ground. “The police are already on their way!” 

The crowd burst into applause.

“That kid’s got _panache_ ,” said Clark as he clapped. 

“I coulda done that…” Jason muttered.

Bruce couldn’t help but smile as officers swarmed into the plaza and started hustling the sniper into a squad car. He reached for Clark’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“Are you okay, babe?” He murmured.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Clark kissed his cheek. “Sorry I was such a grouch today.”

“Don’t you dare apologize when I was an asshole all day too.”

“Finally you two fuckin’ admitted it.” Jason rolled his eyes. 

“What did I say about the fuckin’ swearing, kiddo?” Bruce eyed his son.

Meanwhile, Nightwing was working through the crowd, making sure that everyone was okay. He walked up to Clark, Bruce and Jason and shot double fingerguns at them.

“You folks okay? I hope you have a great rest of your night out and get home safe. Especially you.” He clicked his tongue and shot fingerguns at Jason again just to be obnoxious and then grappling hooked himself back into the night.

“Well, I think we’ve all had enough fun for one day. Let’s go home.” Bruce threw two hundred dollar bills on the table.

“What about the guy?” Jason trailed after Bruce and Clark. “The sniper.”

“I’ll look into it tomorrow. As long as he’s in custody, he’s not going to be anymore trouble tonight.” 

“Maybe it was some jealous psycho stalker who wants to be Bruce Wayne’s boyfriend,” said Jason. “But now he’s gonna tell everyone you’re dating Superman.”

“Nonsense.” Bruce got in the Porsche and put his sunglasses on even though it was dark. “He’ll probably think something went wrong with the gun. Who would believe Bruce Wayne would date a dweeb like Superman?”

“I think you mean who would believe that Superman would date a jackass like Bruce Wayne.” Clark got in the passenger seat.

From the back, Jason heaved a sigh. “Next time you drag me on a family outing I’m going to hire a sniper to target _me_ so I don’t have to deal with this shit.”

“Jason, what’s rule number one hundred and sixteen on the Batfridge rules list?”

“...No hiring criminals to get out of family activities.” 

Clark stared between the two of them. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.”

“He’s dead serious,” deapanned Jason. “He really calls it the Batfridge too. It’s the one in the cave.”

Bruce smirked to himself behind his sunglasses. “Welcome to the Batfamily, babe.” 


End file.
